


King Jaime and the Mystery Knight

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: From a king's tournament, the romance of the century emerges.





	King Jaime and the Mystery Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [december13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/december13/gifts).



> For december13, who requested a fluffy funny fic :)

King Jaime Lannister and Lady Brienne of Tarth were as different as night and day. Earth and water. Handsome king of Westeros and ugly daughter of a minor lord. And yet they were both burdened with the same problem. The problem of marriage.

King Jaime's court was riddled with scheming fathers pushing their daughters upon him, tearing each other apart to put their precious girls on the throne. Jaime's indecision fed the discord between the lords in his realm like a tapeworm in his stomach.

King Jaime bewailed of this to his devoted and loving brother, Prince Tyrion, in the hopes of receiving both brotherly solace and wise advice.

Tyrion slapped him.

“You have a court of beautiful women begging to be yours?” he sneered, “My heart bleeds for you,”

In the end they settled on a deadline. In two weeks a three day tournament was to be held to celebrate King Jaime's ascension to the throne. On the final day of the tournament, Jaime would announce his choice.

Meanwhile, for Lady Brienne, an overabundance of suitors was not the problem. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Tall, awkward and with a scowl that could curdle milk, it was said her father's quest to find her a husband rivalled that of the heroes in the songs.

And yet, a match was found. Lady Brienne found herself marched and shoved her father's Great Hall, Ser Ronnet Connington awaiting her. The ardent suitor looked at her, rubbed his eyes, strained his memory for any potential head traumas he might have received to affect his vision so, and turned to Lord Selwyn.

“Ser! You would have me wed a sow in silk,” he declared, “The only use I could have for a bride such as she would be to eat her. And I suspect the law would look poorly on me for doing so,”

And on it being confirmed that the law would in fact look poorly on Ser Ronnet eating his bride (wives were meant to grace a table and host feasts, _not_ be the first course) Ser Ronnet shook his head in disgust.

“Then I will not have her,” he spat, “For you have deceived me greatly. When you said your daughter was your greatest treasure, your most prized of all your riches, I did not know you meant in terms of livestock!”

And despite Lord Selwyn's protests, namely that Brienne was not a sow in silk and her gown was actually velvet trimmed with lace (of which Ser Ronnet was already aware, he just did not wish to lose the alliterative appeal), the fuming knight stormed from the castle.

Lady Brienne watched the debacle silently, her wide blue eyes betraying no hurt nor mortification. Lord Selwyn sighed and shook his head, whilst the servants of the castle gossiped of the matter behind their hands. The incident became the stuff of minor legend, the light hearted chatter of many a dinner table.

King Jaime's joust, on the other hand, stirred the nobles in the land into a blazing frenzy. Families bribed and begged and courted and cajoled fellow courtiers into supporting their daughter's suit. The young ladies practised their dances until their feet bled, donned their finest gowns of satin and silk, and prayed on weary knees at the altar of the Maiden to have King Jaime pick them and get their fathers off their backs.

One young lady in particular, took the forthcoming tournament very seriously. Very seriously indeed.

And yet, on the evening of the second joust, the rumours of King Jaime's impending wedding played second to fiddle on the tongues of the court. A mysterious knight had entered the joust and had been knocking the greatest knights of the kingdom onto their proud behinds. Servants and nobles alike mused on his identity for hours, whilst even the ladies of the court put aside their dreams of being queen to fantasise of being carried away in the mystery knight's arms.

On the second day the vicious slaughter continued.

The nameless knight in battered armour rode down the great Barristan Selmy and the foreboding Clegane brothers (the larger of whom had to be restrained by ten knights in his fury). Each and every opponent was force fed sawdust and his own tears of disappointment. And although no one took much note, Ronnet Connington included.

On the final day of the joust, the crowds watched with baited breath as their own beloved king went up against the fearsome knight. Lordly fathers crossed their fingers, for several of the mystery knights had already bee declared impotent from the damage done to them. Once again, Ronnet Connington included.

King Jaime eyed his foe through the visor of his golden helm and steadied his crimson attired silver steed. He raised his lance, he charged, he got the stuffing knocked out of him as he was sent plummeting onto his arse.

The crowd watched in silence as the knight dismounted and made his way to the fallen king. He gallantly extended his hand to the dazed King Jaime, who could only blink at the giant looming over him.

“Well fought Ser,” King Jaime spluttered as he staggered to his feet, gesturing towards his squires to bring him the victor's reward, “You may kneel, I will try not to take your head off for that thorough humiliation,”

“I thank you your Grace,” the voice behind the helmet murmured. Jaime frowned, and peered into the blue eyes looking nervously out at him.

“Seven hells,” he muttered, “You are not....”

The knight stiffened as Jaime reached out and removed the helm. A woman looked up at him, an ugly one for sure. Indeed it took Jaime a moment or two to be sure she truly was a woman, but a woman nonetheless.

“What is your name?” he demanded, “Or am I to call you Ser Wench?”

“Lady Brienne my king,” she replied, “Lady Brienne of Tarth,”

The knights and lords of the audience called out and in fury, whilst many of the young ladies sat back and began furiously re-evaluating certain assumptions they had made about their sexuality.

King Jaime had time for none of them, all thoughts were fixed on the nervous blue eyes gazing desperately up at him. The scowl on the king's face lasted a moment, before his lips twitched and he guffawed with laughter. He grasped her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. He clutched her hand and raised it in victory, announcing her as the champion of the joust.

“I am in your debt,” he confided in the dumbstruck warrior wench's ear, “This should keep those grasping lords' minds off my marriage for now,”

“My pleasure to serve your Grace,” she whispered back, “That is a burden I know all too well,”

“And still I must reward you,” King Jaime raised his voice, “In regards to your magnificent display, along with the gold I now give to you, I will grant you any three desires that be in my power to fulfil. Come, ask me what you wish for more than anything else,”

Brienne blanched, her mind suddenly empty of any such wishes (as is often the case, the human mind being something of a bitch).

“I had to enter this tournament in disguise, you Grace,” Brienne got out at last, her tongue heavy in her mouth, “I would ask that no other woman would be forced to do so,”

King Jaime beamed. “Done!”

“I have proved my valour today,” Brienne continued, gaining steam, “I would ask that I receive my due right and be knighted in recognition of my skills,”

Jaime inclined his head. “Naturally,”

Brienne paused, mulling her options. So many things she wanted, and yet one desire shone brighter than the rest. Her father's broken face as Ronnet Connington stormed from their hall loomed heavy in her mind.

She shuffled forward awkwardly, and whispered into the king's ear.

“Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, “You truly wish for this?”

Brienne nodded. “I do,” she confirmed, “More than anything,”

“Well then,” King Jaime said with a devilish glint in his emerald eyes, “May your wish be granted,”

#

King Jaime smiled at Lady Brienne, seated beside him on the dais in the place of honour.

“Does this marriage please you then, my lady?”

“Indeed it does,” Brienne smiled back, “And this wedding has been most moving,”

“We have done a rather good job of things,” King Jaime mused, “Considering that it was quite a rush job,”

“I suppose it was made easier by having the guests already present,” Brienne noted.

Indeed, all those who had descended like vultures upon King Jaime's court had stayed to witness the nuptials. And all were treated with a mighty spectacle. There was a triumphant procession through the streets from the castle to the sept, banners fluttering high as thousand turned out to witness the bride and groom be lead to the alter. Singers and storytellers joined the throng to spin yarns of the 'sweet romance' of the lovers' story and what had brought them to this blessed day.

Jugglers and fools entertained the guests as they dined upon a feast of pies and beef and poultry on the thousands. But no pork, out of respect for the bride.

The bride herself happily munched away in her trough, splattering swill all over her jewelled silk wedding gown and her bridegroom's fine doublet.

Ser Ronnet Connington watched her in disgust. To think he would spend his life chained to this beast! He turned baleful eyes towards the king, pleading him to rescue him from this shame. King Jaime and Lady Brienne smiled back, raising their goblets in congratulations.

To be wed to a sow in silk! Ronnet buried his head in his hands. And once again, he couldn't even eat her.

“You know,” King Jaime mused into Brienne's ear, “That the romance of the day has brought a warmth to my heart, do you not agree?”

Brienne blushed and ducked her head. “Perhaps your Grace,”

“I am glad to hear it,” King Jaime told her, “For now that I have granted your wishes and helped to solve your troubles, I would say it is time for you to do the same for me,”

 


End file.
